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    Dot Dot Dot

    03.24.2015 / FAMILY

    Just last week, in the kitchen, where she was still not yet tall enough to reach the pistachios, she asks, “Where’d you guys get me?” “From heaven,” says Ken, one room over, because he comes up with great, short answers, the kind that end in a period. Factual. Truth. A statement. My sentences end in an ellipses, always, even when I don’t want them to. I leave them – unintentionally – open for interpretation, for more questions and ponderings, continually …

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    Springing to Austin

    03.20.2015 / PLAY

    This is a sponsored post for Zappo’s – thanks for reading! The sun is peeking and the ground is thawing and it’s the kind of week that tricks us into thinking that perhaps we can officially stow away the hats, coats, mittens, gloves until mid-October. And yet, I live in the Midwest, where there’s nothing official about the weather. Our climate is flighty, an 8th grade adolescent feeling equal parts angst and love, responsibility and slack. And so, we’ve been …

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    The Bite

    03.18.2015 / LIFE

    Last week the jealousy bug bit me, and it latched, and I continued to carry it around my day like there was a miniature snapping turtle attached to my index finger – flailing about and knocking things over. I had less grace, and less patience, and less focus, because see this? This snapping turtle rearing his head, with the triangle teeth? I cannot even pick up my coffee cup without it. When the snapping turtle comes, it is, for me, …

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    Bee’s New Room

    03.17.2015 / PLAY

    I’m the youngest of three girls. Here’s what that meant, for me, when I was smaller: (1) I wore Guess jeans six years after they were cool, (2) My baby book lies empty (save for a few strands of blonde locks that I placed in the tiny designated envelope when I was in junior high shortly after lamenting that my mother was too busy to mother me, so I’d need to fill out my own baby book and mother myself …

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    A Canopy of Forever

    03.16.2015 / OTHER

    It started Sunday, with the tantrums. They were not hers, but mine, and they were fueled by a variety of external factors, excuses – too much noise, not enough rest, too much sugar, not enough time – and I had become itchy with discontent. I was on edge, a jagged, barbed wire version of myself that fenced out the good: gentleness, patience, kindness, love. When I’m feeling particularly edgy, I forget a lot of things. I forget that I’m the …

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    Freebird

    03.13.2015 / LIFE

    As much as I talk about less, about purchasing less and striving for less and working toward less, I have quite a bit of more. My job, this brown swirly mix of writing and styling and designing and producing, creates a tornado of stuff. Daily, there are cardboard boxes arriving at the door, ready to be unpacked and photographed and kept, or passed along to someone else, whilst the tower of empty boxes and spilled styrofoam peanuts sit in the …

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